


Kafkaesque

by Whamiltoon



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Abusive Parents, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Infidelity, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hallucinations, Homophobic Language, Insomnia, Internal Conflict, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mental Anguish, Mental Breakdown, One-Sided Steve Rogers/Tony Stark, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Sexual Fantasy, Sub Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony-centric, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-13 09:27:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,915
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16015079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Whamiltoon/pseuds/Whamiltoon
Summary: Kaf·ka·esque /käfkəˈesk/characteristic or reminiscent of the oppressive or nightmarish qualities of Franz Kafka's fictional world.





	Kafkaesque

**Author's Note:**

> idk what this is. I wrote this in three hours of nonstop typing so it's unbeta-ed as fuck but I just wanted to get something out because I've had this in my head for a while and writing about Tony being miserable is kind've my way of venting I guess???

It Started out innocently enough.

An offhand joke spawning a fleeting image, upon which it settled in his brain. It should've gone as quickly as it came.

"Jeez Tony, from the amount you talk about Steve, sometimes it feels like you need him far more than you hate the guy." Hawkeye had remarked from across the Avengers Facility lounge room as Tony seemed to be venting about the Blonde Captain for the second time that day to Banner.

What an odd word choice 'Need'. The word crept up his spine rendering him silent as it reached his brain, settling deep within its crevices. Sinking.

Sinking.

Sinking.

Sinking.

The realization weighed Tony down, filled up his brain with its impressive size and weight leaving little room for anything else. He's tried to take his mind off the comment and spend his time in his workshop as he usually did, but such coping mechanisms fell flat now.

"I need him?" He spoke, for all intents and purposes it was a question.

The problem was it sounded far more like a statement.

Tony dreamt that night, and it was _heavenly_.

Tony's body was mere molasses, the world a slow amber haze of warmth and sound. It was like molten lava was pumped into his veins, and his brain, for all it was worth, was sinking.

Sinking.

Sinking.

Sinking.

Till it felt like it'd simply sunk into the core of the earth and was no longer his.

He'd let go, moved on, he didn't have to think or worry or care. He didn't want to decide anything for himself, someone else could have control, over the situation, over /him/.

Control they did. Strong broad arms gripped his wrists and held him in place as strong thighs flexed in an effort to pound ruthlessly inside Stark, lighting him up making him see heaven. He could barely pay attention, with lips all parted and eyes blown, to the rambling man above him talking as he worked himself up to climax.

"God, you're so good baby, letting me do this to you. Just take it like you were made for this, shit. Fuck, I love you so much, love you like this. Just Tony, mine, all mine, that's all you need to be. Your nothing more, just doing as I say cause I love you and I know what you need, what you want. The things I'm going to _do_ to you. Gonna train you well, make you love this shit, cause your mine and no one else that's what you need."

There was that word again, need. It was about-

Steve.

One moment Tony felt like he was made of clouds, the next he was lead. His blood cold and curdling as he registered properly it was Steve. Steve Rogers, Captain America, making him feel this way. This vulnerable, this debased.

And he was loving it.

Tony awoke with a scream.

He'd seemed to have fallen asleep in his workshop alone.  
  
Sinking.

Sinking.

Sinking.

His heart was sinking into his stomach, he could feel the slow slide down to the pit of his core as his stomach flipped over and over demanding a response.

Respond he did as he ran to the bathroom to vomit until his throat burned and his eyes watered.

Tony wasn't, He'd never-

He wasn't a faggot.

God, it was such an ugly word. He had friends who were gay. He grew up in 1980s New York, he should know better. But....the idea of being actually being attracted to men, of figuring it out. And to desire to be so thoroughly dominated on top of that...

It'd be exhilarating if it weren't so damn terrifying. Playboy hedonist Tony Stark would've revelled in it if he weren't so busy clinging to a crumbling façade of masculinity.

 _You're pathetic you know that. You're a Stark but instead of channelling your power to fill a room, to control a crowd, to stack the cards in your favour, you spout empty prose against the very tools he gave you—Stark Industries, the weapons branch, the entire military in your pocket— because you're too damn weak to accept some decisions come with consequences. If that wasn't enough, Your a miserable little cock slut who wants nothing but to be gagged and bound with the man **HE** made balls deep up your ass. _His conscious it chimed to remind him exactly who he was. In a dead man's voice all too familiar to the brunette. Nagging at all his flaws, his imperfections, how he was useless in every way. A good for nothing runt, a failure of a stark constantly overshadowed by a man who hated him in life and probably still was disgusted by him now in his grave. However, even this seemed not enough as in came the final blow.  
  
_What would Pepper say?_  
  
Jesus Christ. Pepper. His love, his life, his one and only. He looked down at the ring on his finger and never more badly had he wanted to curl up in a ball and die. It was a symbol of faith to the woman who did everything for him. Who he'd've died without, either at the hands of a villain, booze, or himself. He loved her more than himself, though that wasn't a measure of much really, and more than the world.   
  
And yet...

  
  
Tony could not sleep. Sheer fear of what would come of it, of the fantasy turned hellscape nightmare, clung to his very bones and kept him up till dawn.

 

For nights he spent the silent dark hours staring at the elegant curves of his fiancé's back. It did nothing for him despite his yearning and adoration for her, it never did. Now he knew why. Maybe ignorance really was a bliss and now it was too late for that to return.

  
Tony was a rapidly deteriorating engine, fueled by nothing but black coffee and extra strength 5-hour energy drinks. 

 

It could be seen in Tony's body, from head to toe, the effects this was having on him. His hair was a mess from tossing and turning these sleepless nights, his breath was laboured from the excessive caffeine slamming through his system causing his heart to pound constantly, the bags under his eyes were pronounced, and his usually amber skin was a miserably sickly hue.

 

Rhodey was the first to notice Tony's not so subtle misery, when Tony had, for one of the rare times in his life, phased out. Staring blankly at the wall with a glass of bourbon in his hand he hadn't even touched yet, he was only freed from the spell when Rhodey put a hand on his shoulder.  
  
"Hey, Tony."  
  
"Oh Rhodey, hey," Tony responded as he snapped out of it, nearly dropping his drink as he hoped Rhodey couldn't read too much into his internal anguish.   
  
"Tony you don't look so hot. Jesus, you haven't looked this bad in a while."  
  
"C'mon" Tony spoke, voice slurred from sheer exhaustion as he swayed slightly, still he tried to retain a carefree expression in order to seem like himself. "Just a little tired is all, couldn't sleep last night"  
  
"You sure? You know if you ever wanna talk I'm here for you alright Tony?" He remarked, voice pitying as he put a hand on Tony's shoulder. He hated it, he didn't deserve it. He brought this upon himself.  
  
_Good luck trying to tell him, he'd be disgusted if he knew even a sliver of what you are._

And So Tony lied to Rhodey, only furthering his self-hatred for betraying his friend, and told him he was fine. Well, at least this hurdle was cleared.  
  
Too bad it was only downhill from here.  
  
Tony began to see things, from the corner of his eye  was Steve, but It wasn't Captain America Steve Rogers, It was the Steve of his dreams. Looming, waiting for Tony's resolve to break. Hear his sweet words,  _Let me give you what you can't give yourself_ , and feel his strong arms for just a moment but it was bliss none the less. He tried to push the thoughts out his mind and attempted to go to the bathroom to wash his face and wake him up. However, when he looked in the mirror, he could not see himself.  
  
It was skin more weathered than his own, smile lines from years of schmoozing but with empty calculating eyes, and to top it all off slicked back white hair adorned his head.  
  
It was his father. He was his father, laboured breath turned to hyperventilation. This wasn't real, it couldn't be. Tony knew better, but it felt just like him. It felt too real,  _This is real,_ his brain began to spout, frantic and paranoid. This man was him, a stark was a Stark, it's unavoidable.  _Inescapable._ _Good luck being anything more than a crappy copy of me,_ It wasn't himself anymore, this-this was in his thoughts but it wasn't him it couldn't be.   
  
  
"Shut up Shut up!" Tony cried out loud, but Howard continued.

 

I _**made** captain America, it's only suiting you fall for him. Not like a man like that would ever even be remotely attracted to a spineless cowardly child such as yourself. You good for nothing, worthless little fair-_

 __  
Tony couldn't get him to shut up,  no matter how he begged so he silenced him the only way he could think of in his sleep-deprived brain. He screamed, loud and horrific, it sounded like murder.  
  


Not even seconds later and the rest of the Avengers burst in, with ironically enough, Steve Rogers in the front.  
  
"Tony! What happened"  
  
Tony was looking up now, he hadn't even noticed but he'd sunk to the flow.

  
Sinking.  
  
Sinking.   
  
Sinking. 

 

"I-I" Tony sputtered, wide-eyed and dazed  
  
Steve's eyes melted with Pity if only he knew. Pity would turn to disgust, he didn't deserve this and Tony didn't deserve  _him._ "C'mon let me help you." He spoke, his tone caring more worry in this one moment than all the worry Howard ever had for Tony in his entire life. He reached down to help up Tony, but Tony couldn't help but panic. It was a deranged paranoid thought, but he was convinced that if Steve touched him, he'd figure everything out.   
  
  
" **NO!** " Tony cried and scrambled to make a mad dash out the bathroom into the bedroom.  
  
However, it seemed that Steve wasn't about to let him go, of all the times he had to choose to care  _now._

"Tony! I don't know what the hell's going on, but Rhodey was right about you. I should've listened. You're going to sit down NOW!" Steve barked, voice commanding and strict. Controlling.

Stark's body moved without his consent.   
  


 

 

  
He was sitting on the bed before he even knew it, obediently." The desire had sunk so deep into his soul it was apart of him.  
  
He looked in fear at Steve's expression which was rightfully in disbelief. This wasn't how it was supposed to go down. Tony was supposed to keep running, they were supposed to devolve into a full-blown argument that could last up to weeks. Tony wasn't supposed to comply, to obey. That wasn't the Tony Steve knew. And yet....he did.  
  
"Tony-"  
  
"Steve, don't!" Tony snapped, looking down in shame.  
  
"Tony...."  
  
"Please just," Tony inhaled deeply "Don't."  
  
  
His eyes burned, tears fell, and he wanted to start sinking.

Sinking

Sinking.

Sinking.  
  
Sink into the bedsheets and be swallowed up.


End file.
